


Care and Keeping of Firearms and How to Kill A Beast

by Helicon



Series: Reasons Not To Stroke Helicon's Author Ego [3]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angering God, Biting, Blindfolds, Bruising, Euphemisms, Hand Kink, Improper Gun Usage, Intersex, It's not gunfucking I'm sorry, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Nonbinary Character, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Video Game Mechanics, Weapon Fixing, Wheelchair Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helicon/pseuds/Helicon
Summary: The Hunter would learn how to fix their weapons right if their attentionhands--no, span, wasn't so short.





	Care and Keeping of Firearms and How to Kill A Beast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ModounBubble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModounBubble/gifts).



> Part 1 of a fic for ModounBubble on tumblr, because my accidental mission to put Gehrman in weird smutfic after two years of the game being out and like... two fics matching that description existing... somehow got her into Bloodborne.
> 
> This is more of a sexy setup for part 2, you guys' break from my usual weird shit in which Gehrman is an annoying little bitch and the Hunter does NOT ger blood boners, they're very adamant about that.

Newly awoken, the Hunter stumbled as they regained themselves before hefting up the pieces of their blunderbuss and dragging it into the Workshop. They didn't bother with the Doll. This wasn't her niche. There was no way they could channel any echoes if they couldn't fight beasts, and they couldn't fight with a broken weapon.

“Good Hunter--”

“No time, Doll! Weapon’s broke, gotta… uh… shit, I don't…” They placed it on the workbench, eyeing with alarm the amount of tools they could not name or recognize. They understood the concept of a hammer and nail -- that was just about it. There were no such things here.

“I don't…”

“Normally I would ask what sort of hunter doesn't know how to keep their weapon,” came a quiet, amused voice behind them. They stepped quickly out of the way as Gehrman wheeled himself over, taking the shattered barrel of the gun in hand and emptying out a stuck shell. The Hunter stood, stricken and a little ashamed. “But this is your first night on the job, isn't it? With any luck, it’ll be your last…”

“Can you fix it? Show me how?”

He laughed, something just a little forced. “I suppose it gives me something to do. How did you break it? I've seen weapons broken, certainly, but never guns… what, were you beating a man over the head with it?”

The Hunter scratched the back of their head and watched as Gehrman sighed in resignation and started to work on the gun.

“Lesson number one,” he muttered. “Guns are not for bashing. You want to break skulls? There are weapons for that. I haven't got them, but somebody out there does.”

Their eyes followed his hands, studiously taking in the tools he used, where shattered parts were replaced. Honestly, they did mean to learn from this, but they failed to notice themselves leaning in closer, inch by inch. Luckily for them, Gehrman didn't seem to realize they were doing it either.

“Might take a page out of Gratia’s book, if I were you.”

Callused, inhumanly long fingers gripped the gun with practiced ease -- _even mastery,_ thought the Hunter. _Damn_. -- and twisted new parts into place, something they couldn't place that looked to be the width of their little finger at the handle to secure every piece… the night seemed to go on forever in the waking world, so they could stand to watch him a little longer, right?

“--your hand, Hunter, please.”

“Huh?”

“I didn't think you were listening. Show me your hand, there's a certain way we fix weapons here.”

They sputtered, holding out their trembling hand and barely noticing when Gehrman picked up a blade from the workbench and made a shallow cut in their palm. “Hey!” they yelped, feeling a substantial number of blood echoes drain as their bleeding palm was pressed to the gun. “I needed those!”

“Take better care of your tools, then. And stop blushing like a schoolgirl, you're acting like I was about to put it somewhere else.”

The Hunter started, then realized they had nothing to say to that.

“I'm not sure how to feel about your fundamental lack of understanding of the word ‘stop’, good Hunter.”

“It's hardly my fault!”

“I suppose it isn't. Why we send people like you out to shed blood, though, that's something I'll have to take up with those a little closer to you on the ladder… like those contracts _need_ any more fine print.”

“I haven't got a blood fetish, if that's what you're saying!”

They couldn't decide if they liked or were genuinely unnerved by that smile. Gehrman toyed with the blunderbuss a little more before leaning it against the fireplace beside him, barely breaking eye contact for a second. The Hunter, however, did. Their gaze still followed his hands as he put the gun away.

Unnerved it was, then.

“My eyes are up here, Hunter.” There was a lightly chiding tone to his voice, as he took their hand in his and chuckled lowly when they squirmed. He let go. “You can take your gun and leave, you know. It's better for you to get your job done than stay here. Gets the night over with faster.”

“How much time is passing while I'm here?” the Hunter asked, tentatively rubbing their knuckles.

“Who knows? Time certainly _is_ passing, but it seems to pass slower during a hunt…”

“Because I need more time to kill beasts?”

“Or because you're stalling.”

“I could just stick around a while longer.”

“You realize I'll be the one getting shafted if I don't make you do your job, right?”

“I thought you were just here for cryptic advice and Doll-related callousness?”

“If there's anyone who would be willing to help you with your… _blood problem…”_

“I don't have a fetish!”

“And yet, you're the one _calling_ it a fetish.”

The Hunter’s face grew red again, with shame and agitation both.

“What exactly are you stalling for, Hunter? You have beasts to kill.”

“I think I have a different beast to kill right now.” Perplexed as they were at the way Gehrman paled from their words, the pair they had suddenly grown was not something they would let go of easily. “And… and yes, that's a euphemism.” The color immediately returned to his face, which confused them even more. “Actually? I'd rather you killed it.”

“You do have options, I’d just like to point that out.”

“I know. But I don't think the Doll could give me what I'm looking for.” Their heart pounded at their bravery -- hunting was one thing. Getting laid was another.

“Really,” Gehrman mused as he guided the Hunter into sitting down on the workbench. They shed their coat, and gulped audibly as he tugged off his scarf. “And what would that be?”

As their wrists were tied behind them, knees involuntarily spreading, the Hunter felt quite a bit like they were about to vomit. “Human warmth,” they confessed. “Her hands don't feel human enough… and I don't think she could feel _me.”_

“I see where you're going with this.”

What irony. The next step was blindfolding them. They felt their vest open, and their shirt coming untucked, rough fingers trailing up their soft stomach, far enough to thumb a flat nipple and close over the side of their ribs. The Hunter arched their back and sighed, leaning into each touch with barely bridled greed, grinding their crotch into the seam of their pants.

“Not yet, Hunter.” Both hands ghosted down their back, enough to make the hairs raise and send shivers up their spine.

They felt Gehrman fumble with the buttons of their shirt, and the cool air of the Dream hit their bare chest, making them shudder again and squeal when his mouth closed gently over their collarbone in tandem with their ass being squeezed through their pants. One hand strayed towards their thigh, and short nails dragged along the underside. They squirmed enough to get their pants down a fraction, taking their shorts down as well to leave their ass and hips a little more exposed. His grip tightened, if only somewhat, and then dipped down past their backside.

“I had so many questions, Hunter, and this answers _none_ of them.” But still he shallowly fingered them, swiping his tongue over the bruise he'd made on their chest.

“Doesn't make me any less wet for this,” the Hunter breathed. Gehrman huffed, bit that very spot, and they swore they could feel his eyes upon them. “F-for you.”

“That's better…”

“Is it? You wanna see just how excited I am, undo those buttons right there…”

The lack of touch to their body made the Hunter sigh in utter disappointment, until they felt two fingers slip under the button fly of their trousers and snap them right off. “Serious overkill!” they groaned, but could do nothing about it now. Their hips pushed forward, shimmied out of their pants and let them drop around their ankles.

A hum and a brief laugh preceded the sensation of thumb and forefinger gripping the hood of their engorged clit. “This is the beast, huh?” Gehrman stroked it up and down experimentally, clicking his tongue at the Hunter when their whole body jerked. “Comparatively speaking, I suppose you _could_ call it that.”

About the length of an average man’s thumb, it managed to stand perfectly erect, and throbbed at the slightest touch. They were closer than they outwardly seemed.

“Careful, there's some breakable things up there with you.”

“Then put me somewhere else!” they cried out, fully kicking off their trousers and shorts so they were bare save for their boots.

“That, I can do. Just give me a moment…”

They picked up on the telltale shuffling that came with pants-undoing, and grinned. “I don't think I could be more okay with this.” Hands still bound and unable to account for the eyesight they were lacking, they waited for Gehrman to pull them onto his lap, clumsily arranging their legs on either side and sinking downwards.

“Mind relaxing a bit, there?”

“I'm as… as relaxed as I can be.”

“Then we might have a problem.”

“Got into this too late?”

“That's what I'm thinking.”

“Hold on… no, seriously, hold on to something, this'll be uncomfortable for a second--” The Hunter slammed themselves down, fully impaling themselves, and the shout that assailed their poor eardrums could have come from either of them. They rocked back and forth, gaining a rhythm, leaning forward and pressing their head against the back of the wheelchair to brace themselves. “Wouldn't kill you to jack me off a little?” they panted.

“Wouldn't kill _you_ to be patient?” Gehrman hissed, directly in their ear where they weren't exactly expecting it. In the end he did anyway, taking their clit between his fingers again and grabbing their ass in the other hand to bring them down harder every time they lifted up their hips.

Sharp teeth dug into the flesh of their neck as they came, their clit and insides twitching wildly and their jaw stretching in a wordless cry. Gehrman followed after them with a couple drawn-out thrusts, pushing them back into the table and leaning over them to further bury his face in their shoulder. Though the Hunter’s hands were still bound they made a valiant attempt to wriggle out of the scarf and give themselves some leverage to get back into a comfortable position.

What must have been hours later, the Hunter finally came around, expecting to be back in Yharnam but instead they were knelt uncomfortably in the wheelchair on top of Gehrman, who was still out cold. Completely on accident, they shrugged off a blanket that neither of them had put there, and shuddered at the idea that the Doll had come in while their ass was on full display and, _completely_ unperturbed, covered them up. Worse -- she would have to have _moved_ them.

The following stretch brought attention to a suspiciously horizontal bruise on their mid-back, and rubbing the knots out of their neck found them with another at the junction of their neck and shoulder. Their head was pounding.

Maybe a little more sleep wouldn't hurt.

Somewhere, though, in the back of their mind, they felt a blind and raging jealousy that wasn't quite theirs. The Hunter’s gaze drifted to the window before they collapsed into deep slumber yet again.


End file.
